DeadofNight is already a rich and beautifying experience even in EDP form, but in this stunning oil format it seems to transform from what I thought I knew about this scent. It's almost as if this is how it was meant to be experienced, that the oil is it's true format - which I suppose is the case for a lot of perfumes which depend on a great number of raw materials. This is oud rose at it's best, simplicity at it's best; celebrating the wonderful and enigmatic glory of these stunning notes. Deep, rich and slightly smoky oud takes centre stage, nuanced by the hidden warmth of smooth sandalwood and amber. It feels quite thick and dense, almost as if the composition has to bottom to it - just and endless pit of gloriously oily woods and other exotic materials. Rose is the other star here, thankfully it is neither jammy nor soapy like some roses can be; it is simply exactly where it should be. The rose provides a delicate balance to the powerful clutches of this dark, almost incense-y oud, a glimpse of crimson light amongst the dark. Violet leaf is also listed as a dominant note, but it doesn't scream to me, merely lingering alongside the warm amber, vanilla and sandalwood. This is oud-rose at its core and needs nothing else in the way. Overall I feel that the oil format of DeadofNight is, as I said before, the way the scent was intended to be smelled. It's noticeably smoother, richer with all the edges softened perfectly. The only downside is it seems to be the softest out of the oils I have tried in terms of projection and longevity, but the scent itself is a downright daydream.

Feminité du Bois was a revolution, being one of the first women’s fragrances to rely heavily on the use of wood notes. Of course today it is marketed as unisex, but the legend and skill in its composition lives on. I was not expecting this fragrance to smell so incredibly delicious, it ventures almost into gourmand territory, with the woods grounding it appropriately. Cedarwood makes up the majority of the scent profile, although it does not scream, being such a soft and gentle note - in fact, 60% of the composition is made up of wood notes. To contrast, fat juicy plums make themselves known loud and clear. Whilst some plum notes can come across rather like dried, syrupy prunes, in this fragrance it smells intensely ripe and juicy. Pair that with a gorgeous blend of warming spices including cinnamon, clove and ginger with a touch of vanilla, and you’re left with one of the most comforting scent profiles around. This perfume is astoundingly addictive, as I said before it’s ridiculously delicious and inviting, it’s impossible to stop smelling yourself. To me, this instantly reminds me of Christmas. And whilst the scent isn’t particularly dark, loud or limited to the cold, harsh conditions of winter - the warm, cosy notes lend themselves to the inviting cosiness of the festive season.

Upon looking at the notes of Chergui, you would expect a sweet, warm and cosy scent. When in actual fact, Chergui is far fresher and brighter than I was expecting. I don’t love it as much as I thought I would, but I suppose the scent I’m smelling is far beyond what I had pictured - I do find I am enjoying it the more I smell it. The official Serge Lutens website lists the notes as Immortelle, Russian Leather and Hay. These are what speak to me the most. Having smelled imortelle in its natural form not too long ago, this scent instantly takes me back to that moment - it’s incredibly dry, soft and slightly grassy, with these facets elevated with the inclusion of hay and tobacco. There is a warmth on the base from the leather, amber and a touch of sweet honey - but this is subtle. Overall Chergui is a strangely dry and vegetal scent, reminiscent of the smell of Mediterranean vegetation in the wilderness. As I said it’s a lot fresher and lighter than I expected initially, but I’ve really grown to appreciate the simplistic beauty of immortelle and hay together, there’s nothing else in my collection which smells quite like it.

MAAI is the scent of a bygone moment in time, from the golden era of classical French perfumery with its powerful vintage charm. It takes the idea of a traditional Chypre composition, but far dirtier, erotic and outrageously animal. I love it. An intensely sharp and bitter opening of bergamot, with zest and rind at the forefront, paired with a bright aldehydic medley of white florals greet you initially. It’s not long before the filthy side of this scent emerges however, an intoxicatingly brutal cocktail of castoreum, civet, hyraceum and musk burns at your nostrils - giving the scent this overall sharp, unclean and noticeably urinous facet which persists endlessly. A base of smooth oakmoss, woods and warm resins attempt to compete with these stronger materials, but cannot. There’s a lot going on here, it’s incredibly hard to unpack it all. To me, it feels like it’s taken inspiration from the iconic Bal à Versailles with its intensely animalic and resinous rendition of a floral chypre, but remains its own creation entirely. It can smell mind-bogglingly busy and overcrowded at times, and so extreme caution with the sprayer must be advised, but in the right amounts this perfume can be absolutely sublime and tranquil for the right kind of person. I could never wear this out and about, social events and work are a definite no-go; but at home, in the peaceful serenity of solitude, it thrives on my skin.

Le Lion is the pinnacle of simplicity, demonstrating just how gloriously complex and intoxicating such a humble note as labdanum can be. Chanel certainly took a step into unknown territory for their brand when they released this, it couldn’t be farther from their typical style - and yet they came out with an absolute masterpiece. This is the be all and end all of labdanum perfumes. Labdanum is a gum resin which oozes freely from the underside of the branches of Cistus Ladaniferus. Knowing this really helps to visualise what you’re smelling here as it’s intensely thick, resinous and sappy. The warm, dark, sweet and sensual odour powers through the intense balsamic facets of this powerful note, gently softened and smoothed out by touches of vanilla and sandalwood. This is easily my favourite labdanum scent of all time. It’s so warming and cosy, and yet persists with this brutishly strong dark balsamic facet which is just incredibly unforgiving if it’s a smell you’re not keen on. This is by far one of the best fragrances Chanel have ever made, and with a legacy like theirs that’s seriously saying something.

Fetish… what in insatiably breathtaking perfume this is. A blind buy which could not have gone better; I adore Fetish Pour Homme and when I had the chance to pick up the Femme, I could not resist. I didn’t know what to expect with the male counterpart being quite brash and animalic despite retaining its refinement and sophistication. Upon smelling this scent, perhaps ‘Fetish’ is the wrong name for such a serious and elegant perfume. This is a true Chypre through and through, a gorgeous rendition of this traditional fragrance composition, staying true to its French roots throughout. Green, woodland notes of oakmoss, galbanum, cedar wood and particularly cedar needle shine through the trees above, intermingling with the earthy ground beneath you by way of patchouli, Vetiver and labdanum. But to counter this immense green, earthy feel is the florals - tuberose, Jasmine and ylang paired with a refreshing bergamot give the scent an incredibly delicate soapy element. This soapiness is redolescent of aldehydes to my nose, it really brightens things up significantly. It’s old school, yes, but it’s not outdated by any means. It’s actually one of the cleanest and tamest Chypre fragrances which still undoubtedly holds that classical French character, without leaning too heavily into territory which would be considered ‘too old’ by some. I absolutely love it, I’m gutted that this masterpiece is so hard to come by.

I don’t feel Tommy gets the love it deserves, although I’m likely quite biased. This was the first fragrance I ever bought myself, at the ripe age of 17 at a duty free in Greece. At the peak of my teenage years, I thought this smelled like god’s gift to earth at the time - I was obsessed with it from day 1. I exclusively wore this for about a year, before wanting to explore other fragrances until I bought it again a couple of months ago purely to reminisce, 6 years on. This is a clean, soapy, fresh spicy scent with delicious fruity facets. It has an element of that typical shower gel DNA which has been so popular in men’s fragrances from the 90s, but it has something unplaceable which is just so addictive as Alberto Morillas often manages to do. Juicy, rindy grapefruit and bergamot fill the scene alongside a freshly picked green apple; paired with the aromatic edge of lavender and spearmint. It smells very youthful and adolescent, like a clean-cut, sporty teenager. Words cannot describe how much I love this fragrance. As I said I’m likely biased because this bottle is filled with nostalgia and some of the happiest memories of my life - a time I yearn to experience again. I can understand why this would come across as rather unimpressive to someone who has no relationship with the scent, but it will always hold a special place in my heart.

Calabria - another disappointingly cheap and forgettable fragrance from Gissah; this house isn’t making a good impression on me at all. This scent boils down to a clean, powdery floral scent with fruity nuances, but left all creativity and interest at the door. An obnoxious concoction of pink pepper, cashmere and scratchy amberwoods make up the majority of the scent profile giving it this sharp, cheap feel - accompanied by a ludicrously bad take on an Iris accord. It’s powdery, but not in a nice way - and that’s coming from someone who adores powdery fragrances. It’s just boring, I don’t really know what to say about it. It’s so unimaginative and uninspiring that nothing comes to my mind apart from how boring and basic it smells. If you enjoy it then fair enough, it’s not unpleasant, I just feel like wearing a scent like this is a waste of time and personality.

Having heard a lot of excitement over Gissah’s Imperial Valley, I was expecting something great - never have I been so let down. Are there people out there seriously enjoying this? It’s got to be one of the cheapest smells I’ve ever come across, if I didn’t already know what fragrance it was I’d say it came from Poundland. Looking at the notes, it makes you realise how much of it is just marketing. Oud, Amber and leather? Yeah, no. It’s bland, boring and overwhelmingly scratchy fresh shower gel scent - it smells like something Paco Rabanne would release. To me, the bergamot and pink pepper are in absolute overdose with nothing else going on. I cannot fathom why this is popular, I don’t think I can even bring myself to wear the sample I’ve got - walking around, going about my day knowing I smell like a 13 year old on the poverty line is not really my style, thanks.